Leaving
by Julie Poe
Summary: Terry’s leaving the office, for the last time. A farewell to Sabrina Lloyd. She will be missed.
1. Depressed

Terry Lake lifts her brown box and begins to fill it with personal items from her desk. She has always known that this day would come; she just didn't expect it to come so soon.

It is late, nearly midnight. The offices were nearly all abandoned, save for a few self-professed workaholics. She hopes a certain workaholic won't wish her farewell tonight. She doesn't need another reason to get drunk.

"Hey," a voice calls out, causing Terry to curse silently. She turns, and doesn't even try to smile at her former partner, Don Eppes.

"Hi, Don," she replies flatly. She turns back to her desk, and picks up a pencil. She hates herself for her weakness.

"How's it feel?" Don asks, sitting down at her chair, forcing Terry to look at him. She knows he is taking in the weariness on her face, as well as the look of complete exhaustion she had seen when looking in the mirror a few minutes before.

"How does what feel?" Terry asks, looking down. Suddenly, the thought of drinking away the night, as well as the pain, seems inescapably inviting.

"Your last night at the office," Don elucidates. She can see that there is a far more important question in his mind, one that he is afraid to ask, one that she is afraid to answer.

"Busy," Terry answers tersely. She wishes he would just leave her alone.

There is a long stretch of uncomfortable silence. Don taps the desk quietly, and the barely audible noise begins to test Terry's patience. She angrily snatches up a handful of papers, and shoves them into the box.

Don ignores her obvious irritation, and hands her a manila folder. She grabs it, nodding curtly in thanks.

"What are you going to do, job-wise?" Don says, his voice a tone softer.

"I don't know," Terry says, still doing her best not to look at the man. She has finished packing.

For the first time that night, or week for that matter, she willingly looks at Don. She takes in his handsome features framing those eyes that have tormented her for months.

"Goodbye, Don," she says softly, and begins to leave. She feels a strange feeling rise in her gut, a tightness, almost a nausea.

Suddenly, she feels a strong, but gentle hand on her shoulder. She shudders, her spine tingling. When was the last time he has touched her so gently?

"Terry," he begins. She does not turn, dreading the words he is about to say.

"Is it me?" He asks, his voice betraying his pain. Her head drops; she cannot answer him.

Her silence, however, is answer enough for Don. His hand drops from her shoulder and he walks away, guilt clearly consuming him.

Terry swallows hard, blink away a tear, and leaves the office.

Author's Note- I may have a second chapter. Again, like The Odds, it all depends on your opinion! However, if I do have a second chapter, the rating will most likely be raised, do to use of alcohol and language. Thank for reading!


	2. Drunk

Rating is for strong language, alcohol, sexual references (including allusions to bondage), and one barely noticeable drug reference. Enjoy this second chapter! And, I apologize for any inaccuracies involving the alcohol. Not a fan, sorry. Slightly humorous. Slightly.

There will be a third chapter now. However, it will not be up until the third chapter of The Odds and Repercussions are ready to go up as well.

Also, for those of you who haven't heard, it has been confirmed that Sabrina Lloyd will no longer be on Numb3rs. Which is why I'm writing this, because it appears that the scriptwriters do not intend to give a reason for her disappearance.

"Send me another painkiller, dearie," Terry says to the bartender, who nods. She is loose now, probably the most drunk she has ever been in her life. She doesn't know what the bartender is giving her, but is sure as hell feels good.

"So, as I was saying, this total ass who's followed me for three months finally gets the balls to ask me out to a drink. I decided to humor him, which was totally the worst mistake in my life. But, that bastard Kenny had just crawled between another girl's legs three nights before, so I thought a date might be fun. Guess where the loser takes me?"

"A Laundromat?" The bartender asks, rolling his eyes. The woman has told the same story three times in a row.

"A mother-fucking Laundromat! He looked like such a geek too, smiling like some dumb ass with a needle up his arm. Hey, my glass is empty."

"You should probably giving the whiskey a break," the man warns, though complies. "You've been knocking them down for two hours."

"I'm gonna keep knocking 'em down until they knock me down, dear," Terry replies. She leans forward, staring down at the shot glass. Somewhere inside her, her sober conscience reels with guilt and shame. How could have let it gotten this far?

"Anyway, the geek was pretty nice, actually. Well, for a little while. We had great sex. The handcuffs were cool."

"I'm sure they were," he answers sarcastically.

"But it was more than just sex with him," Terry says thoughtfully, putting down her drink, looking almost sober. "There was something special there."

"What happened between you two?" The bartender asks. Terry shakes her head, sorrow overcoming her intoxication.

"Son of a bitch!" she muttered, downing the shot. "He decided to take the needle out of his arm, that's what he did."

"And that's why you dropped out of Space Camp, eh?" The barkeeper said, pouring another shot.

"Yep," Terry answers. She picks up the glass, but suddenly, a hand, a terribly familiar hand, takes the glass from her. She swallows hard, sobriety coming back to her.

"You've had enough of that, Terry," Don Eppes says gently.

"Obviously not, geek," Terry replies. "You still look hot to me."

A faint grin crosses Don's face, but concern quickly replaces it. He sits down next to her, and signals the bartender to leave.

"What are you doing here, Terry?" Don asks.

"What the fuck do you think? I left the FBI today! It's been my life for, for… shit, Don, how have I been working at the FBI?"

"Long enough to know that you shouldn't be getting drunk without someone to keep an eye on you," Don says.

"You think I need protection? Don't worry, prick, no son of a bitch's gonna mess with me! I'll psyche them out if I have to."

"And how are you getting home?"

"I'm not. I'm gonna sleep here, with Earl. Earl likes handcuffs." Don glances at the bartender, who shakes his head firmly in denial.

"Earl's going home soon."

"Well, what the fuck do you care anyway, dumb ass?" Terry asks brusquely, catching Don off guard. He has never seen her so angry, nor heard her speak so foully.

"Because, you're my-"

"Nope," Terry says, interrupting him. "I'm no longer your partner, as of two hours ago. You won't even admit why. Bastard."

She begins to rise, but her knees buckle, turned to liquid from the liquor. Instinctively, Don grasps her arms in an attempt to steady her. She tries to brush him off, but finds herself wanting him to hold her.

"I'm getting you out of her, Terry," Don states. Terry recognizes the tone in his voice. It was his boss voice, and when he used it, whatever he said happened. He was going to take her home, whether she wanted it or not.

"Damn it, you're stubborn," Terry says as Don pays the bartender.

Keeping his hands firmly on her arms, he leads her to his car, and helps her into the passenger seat. She leans back, a wave of dizziness crashing through her.

She watches the streetlights as they pass by, and admires the pretty, dancing fairies that surround them.

"This isn't the way to my apartment," she says suddenly in realization. Don nods, not taking his eyes off the road.

"We need to talk, Terry. But not until you're sober."

"Good luck, bitch," Terry says. "I'm not in the mood for counseling."

"You need it," Don mutters under his breath.


	3. Direct

Author's Note- Mild language. Thanks to everyone for the reviews. It feels pretty complete to me, but if someone disagrees, please let me know what changes I should make. Also, the handcuffs thing was inspired by that line in Structural Corruption when Don tells Terry she can bring her cuffs to that double date that wasn't supposed to be a double date.

She awakes to pain, a terrible throbbing pain that threatens to shatter her skull. She groans, quite loudly, and suddenly realizes she is not in her bed.

Terry rises, too fast. Blackness overwhelms her vision for a moment, forcing her to recline a bit. The room slowly comes back into focus.

"What am I doing here?" She asks herself. She recognizes the room, as well as the couch she has apparently slept on, but they are not hers. They belong to Don Eppes.

"You were drunk, Terry, and that is a serious understatement," Don says, crossing the room to hand her a mug of coffee. She takes it willingly.

"Really? God, I don't remember a thing," Terry responds, sipping her drink. Her headache has dulled to an intense pounding, no longer an explosion.

"I do. In fact, I'll never forget it. I have never been called so many names by a woman in my life."

"What?"

"Let's see. First, you called me geek. Then prick, then dumb ass, then bastard, then bitch. I've never been called a bitch before. Or geek. You know, Terry, geeks don't like handcuffs." She winces inwardly at the bitterness in his voice. Suddenly, the fuzzy memories flood back.

"I'm-" She begins, then stops. She isn't sorry for everything she has said. "I'm sorry I called you a bitch and a dumb ass, Don."

"But you're not sorry for calling me a prick, geek, and bastard?" Don says, picking up what she means immediately. He smiles bitterly. "So, do you want to call the AA, or should I?"

"No, Don. I'm not an alcoholic," Terry says. "I swear. I've only been that drunk once before."

"I remember," Don replies, smiling genuinely for the first time. Unbidden, memories come back to Terry. On their second date, the two had gone to a bar. Terry had encountered her husband that day, and had been extremely depressed. Don had allowed her to get drunk, and in consequence heard her life story through the words of a rarely drunk woman.

"So, what do we do now?" Don asks; Terry can tell he is trying to shove down the memory as well. She puts down her mug.

"I leave your apartment, and you leave my life. Again." She rises, and heads to the door.

"Wait," Don says, grabbing her arm. "What do you mean 'again?' When have I ever left you? Come on, we've working together for more than a year. When have I ever turned my back on you?"

"Cut the bullshit, Don!" Terry snaps, violently breaking his hold on her. "You know I'm not talking about work. What happened to us, Don? Why did you leave me?"

Don looks down, guilt plainly on his face. Terry shakes her head.

"Why won't you even talk about it? Were we so wrong that you can't even bear to think about it? Is that it?"

"No," Don answers quietly.

"Well, that's sure as hell what it seems to be. You ignore me at work. The only time you listen is if I'm talking about a case. It's like you don't want anything to do with me! The last time you talked to me about something other than work was when you asked me over to your house for your father's date! Every time I see you, you treat me like I'm nothing more than just another co-worker, and it tears me up. We used to be friends, Don. We used to be a hell of a lot more than friends." Terry knows how pathetic and immature she sounds, but she cannot help it.

"Is that why you quit your job? Because you couldn't stand to be with me?"

"Because I can't stand the way you hide from me. Partners are supposed to be honest with each other, Don. We're supposed to be able to trust each other. If we can't have trust, we can't work together. And in the FBI, that can cost lives. I couldn't do that. I couldn't risk lives simply because you hide from me. And I'm sick and fucking tired of having my heart ripped out daily by you. That's why I left. Now, get out of my way."

Don reluctantly moves aside, and Terry begins to step forward, but the blackness returns. She falls forward, slamming hard in the doorjamb. She flinches, more so at her own weakness than her pain. Suddenly, she feels so fragile; she feels she could break at any moment.

"Terry!" Don exclaims in concern. This time, Terry does not resist at all as Don puts a supportive arm around her. Instead, she turns into him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Tears begin to fall, and she feels his arms slowly encircle her.

"Don, I don't know what I'm going to do," she whispers, burying her face in his shoulder. His arms tighten, as if afraid that she will slip away from him.

"It's going to be alright, Terry," he murmurs. She feels him kiss the side of her head softly.

Don steps away from her, and cups her face with his hands. She tries to blink away her tears.

"No more lies. No more hiding," he says, smiling. She smiles back for the first time in days, unafraid to look at him.

"I've been lying to myself for a long time, Terry," he says softly.

"We both have," she replies. She waits for him to move.

Suddenly, he takes a step forward, his warm, gentle hands still upon her face. Tenderly, he kisses her lips, inviting her to respond. She does so, her hands suddenly about his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss lasts for only a few seconds before Terry pulls back. She looks into Don's eyes, and for the first time in months, sees a spark that hasn't been there for a long time.

"It's been a while, Don," she whispers, and kisses him again. She does not know what path lies in store for her, but she knows that she will not walk her path alone.

FINIS


End file.
